Dear Old Hillbilly,
My wife and I are expecting our first child. At the baby shower, one of our friends gave us a copy of your book Brangin Up Yore Young Uns the Hillbilly Way. I assume that the gift was made as a joke. We began reading the book, our faces growing more aghast with each page. For a time we tried to explain the book itself as nothing more than an ill-considered joke, a spoof on child-rearing manuals. We could accept that explanation–despite the absolute lack of humor in your apparently unedited text–so long as we were reading chapters with titles such as “Yore Young Un’s Furst Coon Hound,” “Traytin Rangwurms with Mash,” “Clainin Dapper Pales with Mash,” and “Dravvin Way Em Air Noazy Chal Pertecktive Surviss Foaks with Yore Twel-Gaij.”
But then we read the chapter “Innerdoosin Yore Young Un tuh Mash,” including the advice to “kaip the young un’s mama well drunkt up soze her brest mikk is chawk full of alkiehaul. Thaddle giv thuh young un a nacherl taist fer mash.” Just what in the world were you thinking?
Please note that we are not ourselves unintelligent. We each hold advanced degrees; we are both highly paid professionals; and, as something that you can perhaps understand, we own three Audis. Thus, our comments deserve some weight.
Sincerely,
Furious
Dear Oaners of Thray Outties,
Ah am kunfyoozed. Duz aich wun uv yawl hav thray bellybuttins, or dew yawl hav thray bellybuttins twain yuh? Iffen sew, iz air wun of ewe thets got too bellybuttins, an wun thet aint got but one? Or dew yawl aich hav wun thets kanly fixt on yuh, an then thaze anuther thet yawl swap aroun? An dew yawl hav oanly audis, or dew yawl also hav innies?
Ah doant main tuh be rood, but thish hyar ole hillbilly aint nevver herd sich lack in awl muh laff.
Ennyway, let me antser yore kwisschun. Ah wuz a trahin’ tuh shed sum lat on a vext subjickt. Thaze sum foaks thaddle jiss hand a young un a boddle of mash strate offen thuh still thouten furst gittin um yoost tuh sumthin a liddle weeker. Coarse, thaze menny thaddle put a liddle mash in thuh boddle, hwich is a kander an jentler way.
But thaze sum thet doant hold with givvin a young un mash til thuh chall iz as much as twel er thurtain yares old. Jiss lay yore ahz on the pitcher Ah am attachin. “NOT FOR BABIES”? Well, mebbee Uncle Cooter’s mash aint fit fer nobawdy nohwair. Ah wreckin that aint tripple distilled, lack thuh ole hillbilly’s Speshul Rokkit Fule Mash.
Ennywaze, they iz jist a passle of diffurnt ahdeeyers rown bout thish hyar isshoo. An Ah wreckin muh advass is thuh best: iffen thuh mamas drunkt up awl thuh tam, thuh young un’ll git a nacherl taist fer mash. Purt soon, thuh liddle un’ll be a toddlin roun, draggin his er her oan jug an stoppin fer thuh kaizhnull sip, jiss lack thuh chal’s pappy.
An at air is the troo hillbilly way.